


Loneliness is solitary

by JenJo



Series: 52 Short Stories in 52 Weeks [31]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: 100 years in the future, Flashbacks, Future, referenced winterhawk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-09 22:12:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7819213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenJo/pseuds/JenJo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha has lived longer than most. This gives her an outlook on life that, while cold to an outsider, reflects her reality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loneliness is solitary

**Author's Note:**

> Week 34: A story about loneliness.
> 
> Continued on from 'What does it mean to live a dozen lifetimes'.  
> This fic details where Natasha was during that story.

Natasha Romanoff had been many things over the course of her long life; sentimental was never one of those. Her body was slowly failing her, the corrupted serum in her blood finally catching up with itself. Yes, she had lived a long life. That was in itself a curse.

Natasha accepted a long time ago that she would outlive anyone she ever grew close to; it didn’t make it hurt any less. 

Pulling her jacket tighter over her shoulders, Natasha walked over to the shelf in her lounge, picking up a box of matches along the way. Lighting a match, she lit the purple candle sitting in the centre of the shelf, closing her eyes as she blew out the match. She stood there, losing track of the time, breathing slowly through her nose.

Opening her eyes, she put the matchbox away, sitting in a chair facing the candle. She will sit here until it burns out, as she has every year for the past fifty. 

Natasha reached up to hold onto the necklace which had not left her neck in years, the arrow the same as it always was. It was a promise, made a lifetime ago, by two people who no longer existed.

 

~~~ ~~~

 

“A necklace?” Natasha looked down at it, frowning. “Why?”

Clint shrugged, in that way that used to frustrate Natasha, but now she found it inherently  _ Clint _ . “I saw it, and thought of you.”

“It’s an arrow,” Natasha raised an eyebrow at Clint, lips quirked in a half smile. “It reminds me of  _ you _ .”

“Does it?” Clint was acting innocent; Natasha rolled her eyes. 

“You want me to remember you?”

Clint smiled at Natasha, open and warm and  _ Clint _ . “It’s a promise. I promise to always be there for you, whatever you need.”

“I,” Natasha started, before looking away. “I can’t promise that I can do that for you.”

“It’s fine,” Clint wrapped his arms around Natasha, hugging her tight. “I know you’ll be there when I need it, and you’ll know that I’ll always be with you.”

Natasha pulled back, looking at Clint critically. “How can you make such a promise? How are you sure I will keep such a promise?”

Clint gave her one of his best smiles. “Faith, Natasha. One day, you’ll find it. Until then, I’ve got the faith for both of us.”

 

~~~ ~~~

 

Natasha smiled at the memory, as she always did. Back then, she trusted no one, and expected none in return. Clint had taken a chance on her, and had been rewarded time and time again.

“Old age makes us all sentimental old fools,” Natasha muttered to herself, closing her eyes.

“Come now Romanoff, you were always sentimental.”

Natasha’s eyes flew open; Bucky sat on the chair opposite her. She sighed.

“Must be getting old, I didn’t hear you get in.”

“The door was open. You were expecting me.”

“Always,” Natasha gestured to the cup in front of her; Bucky took it, raising it to her, before draining the glass in one go.

“Not wasting any time tonight?”

Bucky shook his head, putting the glass back down on the table. “How are the kids?”

Natasha smiled at the change of topic. “They’re great. I hear yours are doing some great things.”

“And I’m sure you’ve been speaking to them.”

“I have,” Natasha nodded, before leaning forward to rest her arms on her knees. “Sierra asked after you. I hope you’re not avoiding your daughter.”

“Not avoiding,” Bucky waved a hand in the air. “Not anymore than I avoid anyone at this time of year.” Bucky looked at Natasha, almost straight through her. “And that’s all I have to say on the matter.”

“Of course.” Natasha gave him a small smile; she remembered a time when Bucky wouldn’t even talk to anyone on this day.  
  
~~~ ~~~

 

The day had started with a remembrance service; simple, no words spoken. Simply the members of the facility standing together outside as the sun rose, before dispersing.

The mood in the facility was sombre the entire day. Training had been informal, at each person’s choice. No missions were sent out. People meandered around the facility, aimlessly.

It was a sad fact of their jobs, that Natasha could say that the anniversary of a friend’s death had become a common occurrence. Even with that, this one was different.

The Avengers were her family, and she loved each of them dearly. But only one of them was Clint.

Clint Barton, the one who had given her the second chance, the chance at a better life. A year on, and his absence was still noticeable.

Natasha had kept to herself for the day, choosing to train on her own. Sometime around eight, she began to wander through the facility, ending up heading towards the kitchen.

“You okay?” Natasha asked, walking into the kitchen and finding Steve preparing food. He offered her a smile.

“I’d ask you that question.”

Natasha shrugged, coming to wrap her arms around Steve’s shoulders, resting her head between his shoulder blades. Steve shook his head slightly, putting down the knife he had been using.

“That bad, huh?” Steve stood there, waiting for Natasha to move. After a minute, she let go, moving to lean against the counter as Steve continued making food.

“I’m fine,” Natasha said after a further minute of silence, holding onto her necklace. Steve nodded in acknowledgement, focusing on food preparation. “Have you seen Barnes today?”

Steve shook his head. “I’m actually making this for him. He hasn’t come out of his room; not even Amelia could get an answer.”

“It’s not easy, losing someone so close.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“And it will never get easier,” Natasha looked at the finished plate of food. “May I?”

Steve handed over the plate, and Natasha took it, walking across the facility to Bucky’s room. She knocked on the door; after receiving no reply, she sat down, leaning back against the door.

“It’s not easy,” she began, putting the plate beside her and staring at the plain white wall opposite her. “It isn’t now, and it won’t get any easier. That’s not necessarily a bad thing though. It is the sad truth of an extended lifespan. Don’t feel bad. There’s a plate of food out here for you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Natasha stood up, and walked down the hall. She didn’t turn as she heard the door open and close.

“How is he?” Steve asked when she returned to the kitchen. 

“He’s eating,” was all Natasha said.

 

~~~ ~~~

 

“So when can the facility expect to be graced with the presence of the infamous Black Widow?” Bucky asked to change the subject. Natasha rolled her eyes as she tugged her jacket tighter again. 

“I believe the facility already has a Widow in residence. And she’s doing an amazing job, from what I hear.”

“She’s not you.”

“And for that, she should be grateful. No one would want to be me.”

Bucky shrugged. “As you say. So no visits?”

“I’m in no condition to travel anywhere. Unfortunately. Time catches up with us all.”

“So wise, Romanoff,” Bucky stood up, walking over to Natasha with an extra blanket. “I’ll lock myself out.”

“As you should,” Natasha gave him a smile, arranging the blanket on her lap as she heard the door close.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> So this future is beginning to flesh itself out in my mind, so you can probably expect to see more.  
> See you next time :)


End file.
